


Of Hair Like Gold

by Jandeera



Series: A Long Way From Home Alternate Universe [10]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Spanking, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jandeera/pseuds/Jandeera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the obvious culprit is not the one to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Registration of Displeasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Susana Rosa (SusanaR)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/gifts).



> For Susana, who wanted to know more about how Faramir and Eown, "at different times, both successfully and unsuccessfully stole a few hours alone, away from their chaperones." I hope you enjoy.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? Or are you deliberately trying to start a war between Gondor and Rohan?"  
The speaker, a rather tall, stern looking man, glared at his son. His son simply ignored the questions asked, and kept on working at a desk that was not his own. However he soon found it difficult to continue finishing the King's paperwork (and inthe King's own handwriting at that) when he was lifted from his seat, and thrown over his father's shoulder. Still thin after the deprivations caused by running an outpost within contested territory during the recent war, the younger son of the Steward of Gondor caused his Father little strain as he was carried out of the King's office.

Faramir had spent the better part of two decades with the rangers, and had received a rather thorough education in breaking the hold of an enemy combatant. So he wasn't quite sure why he hadn't broken from Denethor's hold yet. Fortunate for Faramir, Denethor reached his destination, that being the set of quarters set aside for the use of the Steward and his children in the Royal House. These rooms had been given to the Steward by his new surrogate Father, Lord Elrond of Imladris, mainly so that Faramir did not have to be carried as far when he fell asleep during family events. This also decreased the risk of Faramir waking up, and refusing to go back to sleep during the long walk back to the Steward's House.

Having reached the door of Denethor's small study, the owner of the room removed one arm from its hold on his son in order to open it. In that instant Faramir jerked violently, dropped from Denethor's shoulder, and bolted. He only got as far as the next door, as the door opened and Lord Glorfindel walked out, saw what was going on, and grabbed the young runaway, slinging him up onto his shoulder in the same manner that he had been held in previously by his father.

Raising one eyebrow at the youngest of his liege's sons, he followed Denethor into his study. Denethor locked the door, and, once Glorfindel had put his captive into one of the study's corners, handed the key over to him for safe keeping.

By this stage Faramir was in danger of losing his temper. To this point, no one had listened to him when he had told them the situation was not of his own making. That rather than he leading his betrothed astray, and convincing her that slip away from their chaperones, it was Eowyn who had been doing the convincing. Swearing under his breath, he kicked the wall that he was facing. Forgetting, however, that elven hearing is much more acute than that of humans, Faramir had not whispered softly enough to stop Glorfindel from hearing.

"You have been in a mood since breakfast, pen neth. A particularly foul one at that. You are in enough trouble without adding to it, so I would suggest you keep your mouth shut, in an attempt to keep the number of soapings owed to you at a minimum."

Faramir shut his mouth and glared at the wall. It wasn't his fault that everyone was against him today. He hadn't started it. Rather, the fault lay with his soon-to-be brother by law, Eomer, the young nephew of the King of Rohan. Eomer didn't believe that the younger son of the Steward of Gondor was good enough for his sister, and made his displeasure at being over-ruled in the situation by his Uncle most plain. Mainly by refusing to let Eowyn go more than two meters from him, unless she was in her rooms. Faramir, having a horde of over protective guardians himself, and understanding some of the reasons why Eomer was unwilling to let his sister out of his sight, was willing to let him get away with this behaviour. His betrothed however, had different plans.


	2. A Midnight Rendezvous

*One week ago*  
It was pitch black in the bedroom, in the Stewards House, belonging to the younger son son of Gondor's Steward. Faramir, for once, was fast asleep, despite it being before midnight, a condition which had been ensured by Elladan Elrondion when he threatened to revoke Faramir's clearance to use the training fields. 

Lying on stomach, as was his wont when sleeping in a place that he had deemed safe, his face partially covered by the soft auburn waves of hair that he had inherited from his mother, the silent observer in his room could be forgiven for wondering where Denethor had been keeping a third, much younger son, had she not known better.

Carefully, she sat on the edge of his bed, and started to run her fingers through his hair, a smile touching the edges of her lips as her betrothed snuffled and snuggled down further in his blankets. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she started to rub his back, hoping that the unfamiliar contact would wake him up. She sighed when he simply arched into the touch, much like one of the many citadel cats when they received some attention.

Determined to wake him, Eowyn dipped her hand into a small bucket at her feet. She quickly rubbed the back of his neck with that hand, and then jumped back as he woke up with a start. She laughed softly, altering him as to whose presence he was in, when he reached under his pillow for a dagger that had been confiscated when he had almost sliced one of his many healers when they checked on him in the middle of the night.

Gliding back toward the still open secret tunnel that she had arrived through, she beckoned him to follow. And follow he did, stopping only to pull on a pair of breeches under his night shirt. 

They exited the tunnels a few minutes later, finding themselves in the gardens that Finduilas had created. Crossing to one of the many concealed benches dotted throughout the garden, they sat down, finally able to talk of things too private to speak of within the earshot of an elder brother.

After a few hours, they were simply sitting side by side, Faramir's arm around Eowyn shoulder, his fingers running through her hair, when all of a sudden Faramir was lifted off the bench and a firm swat applied to his backside.

"You had best return to your quarters, my Lady," came the soft comment from the younger of Lord Elrond's twins, who was probably the last person Faramir wanted to have caught him that night, with the possible exception of Eomer, due to the threat (promise) that he had made regarding the training fields earlier.

Quickly striding off, with an apologetic glance back at her husband to be, Eowyn returned to the tunnels in order to return to her quarters unseen. Faramir was not so lucky, and was frog marched back to his quarters through the main passageways by a distinctly unamused healer.

*End Flashback*


	3. Unusual Behaviours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter before the next flashback

The time spent in the corner had not calmed Faramir down in the slightest. An interesting occurrence as Faramir, at heart, was an eminently honest person, and when caught at mischief or naughtiness of any description would generally admit his culpability rather quickly. Rather, this type of behaviour that Faramir was exhibiting, Denethor had only seen a few times before. Once had been when Faramir had been trying to cover for Boromir, and their father had expressed his doubts as whether Faramir had actually perpetrated the incident he was laying claim to. The others generally involved council meetings with incompetent nobles, who tended to dismiss the young Ranger Captain out of hand. The restlessness and anger he was trying to hide, his son only exhibited those when he wasn't being listen to. 

With a sigh, Denethor sat heavily in his desk chair. Lord Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at him, asking silently if everything was alright.

"Everything is alright, my Lord, if a little interesting."

The other eyebrow was raised, demanding clarification.

"He wasn't the one encouraging Éowyn to slip away from the chaperones."

At this, Faramir startled, turned around, and visibly started to relax, confirming to his Father that he had read the situation correctly.

"Éowyn was encouraging you, wasn't she, Faramir?"

At his child's nod, Denethor waved him into one of the comfortable chairs by the merrily blazing fireplace, and joined him a moment later. Glorfindel took the final chair, lying back and getting as comfortable as was possible.

"Would you tell us what happened between the two you, please, Faramir?"


End file.
